Forming the Pieces
by CaptainSparrow09
Summary: The origins of Miles and Nora's relationship. Companion to my other story.
1. Miles

Disclaimer: Everyone belongs to Kripke and Abrams. The bold section at the end I found on pinterest so I have no idea who came up with it.

* * *

Miles first meets Nora during a recruitment/training session. It's been eight years since the blackout; four since they set up base in Philadelphia. Miles despises these sessions because he has no patience for these kids. He knows it's his job to get them into shape but typically he will pass these off on others and join in specific training once they cover the basics. Lately, Bass has been displeased with the turnout and has forced Miles to supervise.

He and a few others, including Jeremy, wait as men of all ages sign up, then split them into groups to figure out their strengths and weaknesses. Miles barks orders at one group, frustration mounting at their bumbling moves. A quiet laugh from off to the side catches his attention. A figure dressed in a large sweatshirt and track pants, around medium height is standing close by, observing the scene.

"Something funny?" he snarls. Head, covered by a frayed Phillies cap, shakes. "What, think you can do better?"

This time, he receives a nod. There's a low rumble through his recruits, marveling at the nerve of this person. He crooks two fingers, beckoning. The watcher steps forward and runs smoothly through the routine-and nearly gives Miles a run for his money. They are almost through when he realizes something. His distraction is his downfall, literally, as he has his feet kicked out from beneath him. As he goes down, he yanks his opponent, causing them both to fall, the other on top of him. His suspicions are confirmed when he grips curvy hips that clearly do not belong to an eighteen year old boy. Her hat has been knocked off, revealing mounds of dark curls which tumble down her shoulders and brush along his chest. He blinks in astonishment, staring at the pretty face that smirks back at him. Gracefully, she stands and saunters off, swinging her hips. Miles stands slowly, rubbing the back of his head, and none of the recruits say a word.

Bass is going to freak when he hears. Women have no place in the Militia. Women are for fun and entertainment only.

"Who was that?" Miles is still staring after her, somewhat amazed but mostly embarrassed. A round of snickers is the only response he receives. His head whips around, brown eyes blazing. "Clearly you know her. Now answer me!"

One recruit in particular is red in the face, try hard to avert his stare.

"You. Answer." he steps up, close to the boy's face.

"Uh, um, she's... she's my sister." he responds miserably.

"What's your name?"

"Clayton. Derek Clayton."

"And your sister?"

"Nora."

Miles passes the group off onto Jeremy, who howls with laughter when he hears the story. Bastard.

He contemplates taking action- finding this girl, reprimanding her. Then he thinks _for what? _For showing him up? For clearly being the superior fighter over her brother? Miles has served with and dated his fair share of women-he knows not to underestimate them. He knows she wasn't trying to be disobedient or cause a scene. She was ragging on her brother, just like he had done to Ben so many times. That hardly called for punishment. He'll forget about her and let it go.

Except, that night when he sleeps, he dreams of that body pressed against his for other reasons.

* * *

He waits three days, then sends a low ranking officer on a hunt for information. Nora Clayton, 28, had been studying chemistry at Temple University at the time of the blackout.

He hopes that will be the end of it. Still, she takes a role in his subconscious each night, slowly driving him crazy.

He doesn't expect to see her again but he does. Bass is known for his parties, trying to maintain some semblance of their old lives. This one is held in a tent, underneath the stars and flickering candlelight. She strolls in with two other woman flanking her. The change is remarkable.

Her red dress hugs every curve and falls just above her knees, revealing long legs. Her hair is loose, blowing in the wind. Somehow she got her hands on some makeup, which is neutral but makes her brown eyes pop. Gorgeous and clearly intelligent.

Miles tries to deny that he is getting into something. He's not one for emotion and companionship but there's something about Nora Clayton that draws him to her. Bass watches the gazes exchanged but keeps quiet. Miles recognizes one of her friends as the new wife of one of his officers. She brings her over and greets him warmly.

"This is Nora," she supplies unhelpfully. "Nora, meet General Matheson. He whipped Ricky into shape."

"Yes, we weren't properly introduced before." Miles smirks slightly. Evie frowns in confusion. Nora covers her laugh in a cough. Clearly, she remembers him. Ricky calls for Evie and the second unknown woman slinks off to Bass, winding herself around him, and leaving Miles and Nora alone.

"I'm sorry if I acted inappropriately or wrongly or whatever. I wasn't trying to cause problems." she says quietly.

"No, not at all. I was actually impressed. I hope I, ah, didn't... well, I mean, I didn't go easy on you. I wasn't expecting a, ah,"

"Woman?" she offers humorously. He nods, sure his face is on fire. This is not like him at all. "No worries. I think you were in worse shape than me."

"Hardly."

She hides a smile, glances around at the couples mulling about, and the live band playing.

"Do you dance General?"

"Miles." he tells her and is ready to refuse but there's something in her eyes that stops him. He can see that he is going to have a hard time saying no. Even still, she seems like a take charge type of woman who wouldn't listen anyway.

They dance three songs, then stop to eat and drink. She's on her second glass of wine when he takes her by the hand and leads her away from the tent to sit a little ways away on the hillside. He's tired of the peering eyes and honestly, just wants to be alone with her.

They talk for what feels like hours about a wide range of topics. Miles doesn't speak much but Nora could go on and on. Surprisingly, he doesn't mind. In fact, he finds her optimism and sunny demeanor infectious. He likes her and that scares him. It's not like him to become emotionally attached and he's certainly not Bass, who is more of a love 'em and leave 'em type.

Despite his better judgment, Miles leans over, snakes an arm around her back, and kisses her. He'll never admit it but that one kiss let him know this was it. There had been no one like this before and there certainly wouldn't be another.

* * *

Bass sends him to Indianapolis four weeks later. But those four weeks are spent with Nora, having dinner, sneaking kisses, and growing closer to each other.

* * *

By the time he is back in Philly, it's almost Christmas. For the past three months, she's been on his mind and at the moment, all he wants is her. He's about to send someone to find her for him when a messenger knocks on his door.

"A Miss Clayton is requesting to see you General."

"Send her in." he glances around his bedroom, which looks untouched. He throws a couple logs on the fire, causing it to blaze to life. Within minutes, the room is warm and cozy; inviting even. A soft knock comes on the door and he quickly opens it to find her. She smiles widely and steps forward, throwing her arms around him. He's secretly pleased that she's as happy to see him as he is to see her. He buries a hand in her hair as the other tightens around her waist.

"I missed you." she lifts her head from his shoulder and kisses him. He responds, slowing it down, savoring the moment. He wants to say the words back but can't seem to find them.

"I hope everything's been okay." he says instead. He reluctantly pulls away and walks to the table filled with alcohol.

"For the most part." she lingers behind him, fingers trailing over the coat he has tossed carelessly over the chair. "A few of my friends were arrested around Thanksgiving."

"Why?"

"A few reasons that really didn't make any sense." she pauses, then asks, "Miles, this is all temporary, isn't it?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, eventually the government is going to find its footing. Why are you discouraging patriotism? The Republic's been good but it won't last forever."

"It's been eight years Nora. Why are they going to try now?" he leans against the table, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a tumbler full of whiskey. She shrugs in response.

"I don't know. It was... forget it. I don't want to sit here talking about politics. I've waited for this for three months." she walks right up to him. She's still the same, just slightly dismayed. Some of that spark he loves so much is gone. Still, there's a tender, loving look in her eyes that overwhelms him. Here was someone who had been waiting anxiously for his return. He has never had that, not even as a marine. Of course there had been his family but never a woman.

"So have I." he says quietly. A smile lights up her face and she leans against him. "God, you're freezing."

He lifts his hands to her face, cupping her cheeks to share some body heat.

"It's starting to snow. It'll be a white Christmas probably."

"Come here," he moves her in front of the fire and sits down. They curl up together and she leans on him, sighing softly.

"I'm sorry for coming unannounced like this."

"I was coming to find you."

She twists her head to look at him, eyes sparkling.

"So. You did miss me." she says quietly. He keeps his eyes straight ahead and she smiles, turning completely. She swings a leg over his hip so she was straddling him. Her arms weave around his neck and she leans her face close to his, noses brushing. "You're a man of few words Miles Matheson,"

She kisses him gently and adds, "but that's okay with me."

He puts a hand on her back, holding her to him. They sit like that for a few minutes before he pulls away slightly, gazing at her. She has a somewhat dazed expression but smiles, mumbling his name, and leans in again.

"Hold on," he shifts her off his lap and stands, quickly walking to the door. He lives in a mansion with Bass and a few other high ranking officers. Bass and Jeremy had been known to barge in unannounced at times. He flips the lock and turns back to Nora. She's leaning back on her hands, an inviting smile on her lips.

"Are you just going to stand there?" she asks softly. He shakes his head silently and walks back, kneeling down in front of her.

"This is okay?"

"It's more than okay."

"Okay," he leans over her and she wraps her arms around him, pulling him with her as she lies back on the thick carpet.

* * *

Once she leaves the next morning, Miles showers and dresses, whistling softly. He's happier than he's felt in a long time. He enters the small dining room to find Bass and Jeremy eating breakfast. Well, Jeremy is eating. Bass is pouring over a stack of papers.

"Morning," Miles sits between them and reaches for the plate of bacon, ignoring Jeremy's wolfish grin.

"Have a nice night?"

"Yeah. Nice to have a bed again."

"I bet."

Bass has not looked up once, which makes Miles feel uncomfortable, as if he has been caught doing something he shouldn't.

"I hear you had a visitor last night." he finally says. Jeremy cackles gleefully and Miles frowns. He's reminded of the night he and Charlie watched _The Lion King_- one of the few memories he has of his niece. Jeremy is one of those obnoxious hyenas and Bass is the dick lion. Who does that mean he is?

"Yeah. Nora, I told you about her." he says, still frowning. He has no reason to answer to Bass. They're equal partners. He doesn't need permission to sleep with his girlfriend.

Bass merely nods, sips his tea, and flips a sheet of paper over.

"I need you to head to North Carolina, check the border."

"I just got back."

"So, go in a few days but it needs to be done."

"What about you?"

"I've got things here that need to be taken care of." Bass glowers, as if how dare he question his authority.

"You two sound like an old married couple." Jeremy snickers, then mimics a deep, male voice and a higher pitched female one. "_Oh I do all the work. _**You don't appreciate what I do here at home.**"

"Shut up Jeremy," they both snap in exasperation. He shrugs, hardly offended, and scoffs down a spoonful of eggs.

"This is a military matter." Bass says. "That's _your _part of the republic, remember."

* * *

"I don't understand." Nora tells him the next night. She sits on his bed as he throws a couple uniforms and supplies into a bag.

"This is my job. It's what I do."

"You just got back."

"Tell me about it."

"You can't refuse? Push it off on someone else?"

"No," he zips the bag and turns to face her. "One of the perks of being general, I suppose."

"I suppose," she repeats but she smiles and looks at him through her lashes. "I should give you a good going away/Christmas present before you leave then. Give you something to think about while you're away."

He smirks, compliments her thinking, and presses her down into the mattress gently.

Some time later, she is stretched out on top of him, head buried in his chest. He had pulled a blanket over them and was now skimming his fingertips over her bare back. She presses her lips against his collarbone, then lifts her head to look at him.

"What were you like before the blackout?"

The question stuns him momentarily.

"I don't know. The same I suppose," he says. That's an outright lie. The old Miles would be disgusted at the things he has done. "Maybe less stressed, more... a lot of things. I... I don't like who've I become."

"Well, I like you just fine," she says. He shakes his head. She doesn't know what he's done and what he's ordered. If she did, she'd be running away screaming. "You're trying to help people. The city was a wreck before you came."

"Road to hell is paved with good intentions," he mutters. "What about you? What were you like?"

"The same. Quieter, I guess. I was always studying. My dad was disappointed I wasn't a boy and still enrolled me in all sorts of karate, sports, etc."

"That explains your talents."

"Mm," she looks amused as she slides off him and curls into his side, keeping an arm and leg wrapped around him. "Good night."

He stays awake until he hears her breathing even out. He doesn't want to leave. He hasn't felt this complete in, well, ever. He has a cheek against her forehead and he makes sure his voice is barely above a whisper when he says, "I love you Nora."

She hugs him tighter then, making him suddenly anxious that she heard him.

They have a hard time pulling away a few hours later when he needs to leave.

* * *

In the two months that he's gone, he comes to understand the meaning of his sentiment. He really is in love with her. She's a constant thought in his mind and he just wants to be home with her. Home. He's never thought of Philly that way before.

He doesn't have to wait long to see her. After delivering his findings to Bass and retreating to his room, he finds her standing near the window.

"Bass told me you were coming. I figured I'd just wait in here." she says quietly. She smiles weakly at him and it doesn't quite reach her eyes. He notices right away how horrible she looks.

"What's going on?" he slowly steps towards her, feeling slightly tentative.

"Uh," she looks about ready to cry and he takes her in his arms, which makes her whimper softly, "My ah, my family they were... they're gone."

"How?"

"There was a, a man." her hands clench tightly around him, like he's her last hope. "Bass had men on it, investigating. It seems like it was a random attack. He was looting the loft they think, and... Derek and my dad tried to stop him. Wrong place, wrong time."

"When was this? Were you there?"

"A few days after you left and no, I was with Evie."

"What..." he rubs a hand down his face. "Two months. You've been alone for two months."

"No. Evie and Ricky let me stay. I still have the loft and Bass has been more than generous."

"What do you mean?"

"He's letting me do some work for him, keep me occupied, and lets me stay some nights. I can't stand being home but I can't get rid of it." she pulls away from him, sniffing, and wiping her hands under her eyes. "I just, can I have a minute?"

"Yeah," he kisses the top of her head, mutters how sorry he is, and leaves his room. He stands in the hallway, anger pulsating through him. On an impulse, he storms into Bass's room, slamming the door loudly. The other man looks up with a bemused expression.

"What's got you all in a mood?"

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Going over expansion plans."

"Bass," Miles's voice is low, almost growling. His eyes narrow into slits as he tells-_orders _him, "Stay away from Nora."

"I'm confused."

"Like hell you are. Is this why you keep shipping me out? So you can mess with her a little more each time? I leave-her friends get taken in. I leave again-her family is killed."

"Ok. One, her 'friends' were going against the Republic, breaking laws. Typically, we arrest those people even if their friend is the general's new plaything," he snaps. They're both glaring at each other over the desk. "Second, what happened to her brother and father was an unfortunate accident and I'm hurt you would insinuate I had a hand in that."

"Drop the act. I'm not in the mood for your games."

"Killing people in cold blood is more your MO than mine."

"No, you just send people to do your dirty work now. How much did you pay him?"

"Again, I don't know what you're talking about." Bass says, though this time a smirk appears at the edge of his mouth.

"What was the plan? Kill them, draw her in, make her think you care, then send me to Canada and snap her neck?"

"Nora has been helpful in creating some bombs for our fight against the Plains Nation."

"I bet. What happened to no women in the Militia?"

"She's not a fighter. She's a supplier."

"I don't care what she is. Leave her alone."

Bass expels a long sigh and finally steps out from the desk.

"Why do you care? Hmm? She's become a distraction Miles."

"So you admit it."

"I'm not admitting anything. I'm just stating what I'm observing. Ever since that party when you two started making googly eyes at each other."

"How is it any different from your parade of whores?"

"They don't come back. I don't get attached. My focus is here." he taps a finger against the map on his desk. "Where's yours?"

"It's here."

"Is it? Because the way I see it, since she's been around, you haven't been as eager as you used to be." he leans close to Miles, blue eyes icy. "I don't like the way she thinks. She's a flag loving hippie with her head in the sand. It's time she came around to what the world is really like."

"There was a time we fought for that flag." Miles replies, hoping the dismay he feels is not visualized. He gazes at Bass, wondering who the twisted man before him is. The monster he created. God, they had done quite a role reversal.

"And look how they repaid us."

"Whatever this sick game is, it's over. Understand? Because I swear, you lay a finger on her, I am gone."

He turns with these words, leaving the room and Bass behind.

* * *

The next few months shows a change in all of them. Miles passes off assignments, refusing to leave Philadelphia. He will go out on missions that keep him within a few hours of the city. The guilt and regrets he has felt over time is quickly building up. What the hell had they done?

Nora grows more jaded, burying herself in requests from Bass, which aggravates Miles. On the other hand, Bass seems happier than he has been in a long time. But it's not a happiness that is all sunshine and rainbows. It's dark and twisted and almost relieved, like he's regaining the upper hand somehow and sinking his claws further into total control.

* * *

Miles snaps one night around early April. It's late and Nora looks more withdrawn than usual and he just can't take it anymore. He can't remember the last time she smiled or seemed to be enjoying herself. He thinks that she's slowly destroying herself.

"You're done." he tells her, not caring how harsh he sounds.

"Who the hell do you think you are? Telling me what I can and cannot do?"

"Do you even see yourself? You're not eating, not sleeping. What the hell is wrong with you? Since when do you enjoy killing people?"

"You're a damn hypocrite you know that?"

"It's different!"

"No it's not! It's the same thing you're doing. Trying to help and protect when no one else is. At least I'm doing something! Most people just sit by and cower in their houses, waiting for others to come rescue them."

"That's what you have me for!"

"I am not some helpless flower that needs your protection Miles. I am done hiding and letting people, no not even people, these _animals _think they can run around without any control and that they don't hurt others. That there are no repercussions."

She's close to tears and he knows then that she hates what she's doing but that she feels like she has to anyway. In a rare display of emotion, he approaches her, stands close with a sad expression on his face. His hands grip her hips gently as he stares down at her.

"The reason I fell in love with you was because you're not like everyone else. I was going in a direction that I realized I hated and you brought me back from that, gave me some real faith and hope. Where's _that _Nora?"

She doesn't have an answer for him, just shakes her head instead. _I don't know_.

* * *

Miles knows Bass is responsible for Nora's change and he hates him. He hates him for what he's done and he hates himself for allowing it all to happen. The last time he has felt this hopeless was when the blackout hit. He copes the only way he knows how, which is to throw himself into a lost cause and try to control it. Nora hates being coddled and only pulls further away from him.

They barely talk, barely interact altogether, and by the next month, he's rejoining missions that take him further from home. He concedes, reluctantly letting Bass win. Nora is under his thumb now and from this view, it doesn't seem like there's anyway to get her back. She's been stripped down to the bone, seemingly no humanity or conscience left to her.

* * *

His birthday is the end of August and he returns to Philadelphia, though he wishes he were anywhere else. He doesn't want to go to Nora and he sure as hell doesn't want to go to Bass. The only other option is one he tries hard to forget-just another reminder of all the mistakes he's made. He makes his way to the small apartment that's guarded 24/7 and lets himself in. Rachel has long since forgiven him, even if he hasn't, and he sits in front of her, head in his hands. She has been captive for two years now and this is only the third time he has seen her.

"Why did you come here Miles?" she asks when he stands without having said one word. He shrugs but the reason is his sister-in-law always seems to have some sort of advice that usually works out in the end.

"Everything's gone to hell." he leaves without a goodbye. He doesn't ask for her advice because he has decided that there's no hope. This is his punishment for all the things he's done. Why should he have a sliver of happiness when he's taken away so many other's?

* * *

When he returns to the mansion, Nora is waiting for him in his room. For a moment, he thinks of that first night they were together- months shy of a year now-how happy she was to see him, relieved that he had returned in one piece. She smiles as he approaches her slowly.

"I didn't think you were coming back," she says quietly. He doesn't admit that he didn't think so either. Instead his eyes search her face, hoping to find some sign of _that_ Nora. He exhales a long sigh, then lowers his head and kisses her gently because despite everything, he's still in love with her and misses her like crazy. She responds eagerly and he thinks, _please, please let this be it. Maybe we just needed some time away from each other._

* * *

The next morning, she's back to Bass's bidding and Miles takes off for New York. From there, he heads to Massachusetts, then New Hampshire. He is called back by Bass at the end of November. He has plans to head down to Atlanta, try to create an alliance with the new leader of the Georgia Federation. Miles must take over as leader in his absence.

"Where's Nora?" he asks, passing his best friend in the hallway after searching high and low for his girlfriend. Bass shrugs.

"Haven't a clue. I haven't seen her in three weeks." he replies, which causes the other man to stare at him for a long moment. He knows Bass too well and know when he's lying. This is not one of those times.

He leaves the house, heads into the city, and finds Evie at a florist.

"She's been staying at the loft." she tells him, observing a group of mums.

"The loft?"

"Mhmm. I haven't really talked to her in a while but I saw her the other day and she told me. I was just as shocked as you are."

He thanks her and quickly goes to Nora's home, banging loudly on the door. She swings the door open, looks surprised to see him, but ushers him inside.

"You couldn't leave a note?" he asks. It's times like these he wishes they still had electricity. How easy it would be to just call her and know right away where she is. Instead he's been on a hunt for the past hour. "What's going on?"

"Nothing's going on."

"You've been living with me for months and I come back and you're gone. You're saying that's nothing? I thought- I don't know what I thought." he rakes his eyes over her appearance and feels his stress level reduce. She looks good. She looks like Nora. She looks like she had been taking care of herself in the time he had been gone.

"Well, I'm fine but thanks for the concern."

"Why'd you leave?"

She crosses her arms over her chest and walks over to the window, peering out on the street below. After a few minutes of silence, she turns back to him and scratches the tip of her nose.

"I'm not working for Bass anymore. I don't want to be involved with it anymore. I... I can't do it. I, we, have bigger priorities."

"We?"

"I'm pregnant."

His face, which had been furrowed, crumples into a blank expression. She slowly sits down on the couch and waits for him to respond.

"How could you let this happen?" he asks. A look of surprise passes over her face but it is quickly replaced by anger.

"How could _I _let this happen? I'm pretty sure you were there too!"

He scrubs his hands over his face and turns away from her. Panic has built up inside him. There is no way, no way in hell, that this was going to happen. Nora is one thing but a baby is something entirely different. He could handle her but he couldn't handle a baby.

"No," he shakes his head.

"No what? No you weren't there?"

For a split second, the thought passes over him. Maybe it's not even his? He has a sudden vision of her and Bass together but forces it away. He wouldn't put it past Bass but Nora wouldn't. Or would she? No, no, despite all the things she had done lately, she would always be faithful to him.

"I can't do this." he walks towards the door, stopping as he heard her stand up.

"Where are you going?"

"I, we, are not people who should have a kid."

"Thank you for that vote of confidence. So... so, what? You're leaving?"

"Do you see the world around us?"

"Yeah. Why do you think I left? We can leave." she is suddenly at his side, gripping his hand tightly. Suddenly he sees the old Nora, the one who had been so optimistic. "It'll be okay."

"No it won't. I... this is the last thing I want." he tugs his hand out of hers and opens the door.

"And what about me? Unfortunately it's kind of a package deal now."

"What about you? We have been struggling for months now."

"So that's it." she says flatly, glaring at his back. "Fine. Fine, you know, you are a damn coward and selfish. It's always about you. You get mad, you run off for months, and then decide to come back. At least I'm trying."

"Trying? You pushed me away! What, did you get scared that I was going to leave so you thought I'd stick around for a baby? Sorry. Not gonna work."

"Oh is that what you think this is? I don't need you! Go, leave but _do not _expect to come crawling back here because I won't let you."

"Trust me, I wouldn't dream of it."

* * *

It takes him two days to wrap his head around the idea. Is it so bad? No, when he really thinks about it, isn't this what he wanted? Isn't this what he had envisioned? Nora, always at his side, a kid or two tagging along? How many times had he listened to Ben talk about Charlie and Danny and felt jealous?

It takes him another day to muster the courage to walk back to the loft. He stands outside though. She has the curtains pulled shut. Knowing her, she has the loft rigged to blow if he tried to enter. He knows he hurt her and it's just one more thing to add to the list of mistakes he's made. He turns without trying to contact her and mulls everything over. Honestly, it probably is for the best. He would be a terrible father. Nora, despite the dark path she had started down, would be a good mother. She had pulled herself back together in a few weeks. That wasn't her true nature. This was his true nature. He would simply screw a kid up.

He throws himself into training the new recruits and leading minor battles, trying to keep his mind off Nora. He doesn't speak to anyone but Bass and Jeremy and even they don't know what's going on. He should have known to tell Bass because as ecstatic as he is that the demented Miles is back he knows something is wrong and Nora is to blame, which only fuels Bass's dislike for her.

* * *

Miles sees her a month later in the company of one of his officers-Hamilton, he thinks-smiling brightly as if she didn't have a care in the world and life was wonderful. He is with Bass at the time and neither say a word. It's a surprise-yet at the same time it isn't- two weeks later when he hears Hamilton is on medical leave and, later, at the Christmas party, hears the entire story from Evie. A group of soldiers had ganged up on Hamilton, beat the shit out of him, and Nora tried to interfere. Evie's sympathetic look tells Miles all he needs to know.

"Where is she?"

"Gone. As soon as the doctor said she was okay. There was nothing he could do for the baby. I got a note from her that she was going to see family out west and left no word on how to get in touch with her." she lowers her voice and puts a hand on his arm. "Miles, I'm sorry."

"What are you sorry for?" he shrugs her off and turns away. His eyes catch Bass's across the room. His best friend as always been an open book, at least to him. _You son of a bitch. _

He leaves the party and climbs the stairs to his bedroom. He paces around, wants to scream and trash the room but knows the noise will just attract attention. He goes down the hallway to Bass's room, goes to his desk, and yanks a piece of paper out from under an assortment of items, all of which go flying to the floor.

**I warned you. **He scribbles the words with a pencil, leaves the paper in plain sight, and returns to his room. He quickly packs a week's worth of clothes into his bag along with a couple daggers and a canteen he had just filled with water, throws his jacket on, and slides his sword into his belt, hidden beneath the jacket. Quietly, he exits the house out the back and walks away without taking a second glance back.

* * *

He tries to find her. It takes some time and it's close to the middle of January before he catches up to her in a small town in Ohio. He never approaches her, just checks to make sure she's okay, and he is relieved and not at all surprised to see she is handling herself just fine. This goes on for months, him tailing her to a new locale every few weeks, before he finally gives up. He's never going to speak to her so what's the point. She doesn't need him. She made that clear the night he turned his back on her. She settles in a suburb of Illinois and after making sure one final time that she is okay, he takes off for Chicago, which was his first home. At least he'll be in the area if she needs him-if that ever happened. He has a few friends he knows he can trust and they will be able to keep tabs on her for him.

He makes himself at home at The Grand. He is given a room by the tavern owner who looks about ready to croak, and begins to unpack his belongings. He checks each zippered pocket, making sure he has everything, and frowns when a sheet of paper falls out a small pocket he has never even taken notice of before. He unfolds it, sees Nora's familiar, loopy handwriting, and reads over what she has written. It's old, from the previous December, when he had left for North Carolina.

_Sometimes it's hard to find the words to say to you. I know, I talk constantly, so this seems hard to believe but it really is true. I'm scared to say it to your face. _

_I found this hidden at the bookstore that's by the old stadium. I thought it fit us quite nicely. I know you will roll your eyes and call me cheesy but I know somewhere in that macho persona of yours, you'd agree. _

**'I love you' means that I accept you for the person that you are and that I do not wish to change you into someone else. It means that I do not expect perfection from you-just as you do not expect it from me. It means that I will love you and stand by you even through the worst of times. It means loving you when you're in a bad mood or too tired to do the things I want to do. It means loving you when you're down- not just when you're fun to be with. 'I love you' means that I know your deepest secrets and do not judge you for them- asking in return only that you do not judge me for mine. It means that I care enough to fight for what we have and that I love enough not to let go. It means thinking of you, dreaming of you, wanting and needing you constantly, and hoping that you feel the same way for me. **

He rereads the passage twice and slumps down into the armchair by the fireplace. It's enough to make him take off running for her new apartment but he doesn't. Instead he contemplates where they went wrong, what had changed to make these words,which she obviously had believed strongly in, a fraud. Maybe it had never been that in the first place. He comes close to throwing the paper in the flames but folds it up neatly and places it off to the side, knowing he would never be able to get rid of it.


	2. Nora

Nora lounges in the bay window that looks down on the busy street below the loft. The sun is bright, sending warm rays onto the cushioned seat and she stretches languidly with a sigh, enjoying the relaxed feeling. It is short lived as somewhere behind her, one of the doors slam and pounding footsteps storm into the living room.

"I'm not asking for your permission! I'm telling you!" Derek's voice is loud and she turns her head to find her younger brother standing next to her, glaring at their father, who is standing in the doorway that leads to the kitchen. "I want to help people!"

"Help? They are not helping! You want to help? Go to Anthony, go to John. _They _are people who are helping."

"They're not doing anything! I know you don't like President Monroe but I don't have to agree with you. Nora, please," he looks at her in desperation, expecting her to bat for him. She glances at Samuel, whose stern glare makes her fidget. She sits upright, swinging her legs off the built-in seat, and gazes between them. When she says nothing, her father speaks up.

"No, you're right Derek. You don't have to agree with me. But who the hell are you that you'd agree with those monsters? I raised you better than that. Nora, tell him."

She wishes she could leave the room. It's been this way for sixteen years, ever since her mother passed away. She's been the caregiver, the other adult in the family. Her father and brother are infamous for butting heads and they always look to her to end the argument- Derek looking for solace, Samuel looking for blind agreement.

"Dad, what's the worst that could happen?" she's known about her brother's plan for a while now but has kept quiet, knowing it would anger her father.

"What's the worst that could happen? Do you see what they're doing, Monroe and Matheson? Sure, life was great when they first showed up but now they're turning it into a dictatorship. You can't step outside and take a deep breath without them taking you in for questioning!"

"That's not true!" Derek shouts in exasperation. "God, you don't even try!"

"They're brainwashing you son. You see them strolling through town, living like kings. They entice you with their parties and their alcohol and everything else, like they have it better than us. You don't see the other side, when they round up their group for the day and shoot them point blank. Are you willing to do that Derek? Kill someone?"

"How's that different from Anthony and John are doing? Oh, because they're getting rid of the evil Militia? Before the Militia came, there was total chaos. Did you ever think that the people they arrest are getting arrested for a reason?" with that, Derek turns and leaves their apartment, slamming the door loudly behind him.

"Your brother is immature and naive." Samuel mutters, turning to Nora with his hands firmly on his hips. "It doesn't matter. He won't last one session with Matheson. They'll spit him back out before he even has a chance."

"Do you want me to go after him?"

"Keep an eye on him."

She quickly dresses, pulls her baseball cap over her face, and heads toward the local park she knows recruitment typically takes place in. She has watched these sessions before. She's watched _him _before. Nora knows she shouldn't been attracted to General Matheson -who her father considers to be the devil incarnate- but she is. She assumes it is his bad boy persona, which has always been a weakness for her.

She may have been known for being quiet and studious but she's also known for getting what she wants. She wants him. She's glad when she catches his attention but at the same time, wonders if this is a bad idea. This could all backfire on her. Oh well. You didn't get anywhere from hiding and refusing to take risks. Life has been dull- she could use some excitement. Plus, she'll have the added bonus of embarrassing Derek.

She ignores the shiver that runs down her spine as he holds her, knowing it will only distract her. Maybe she even presses a little further against him, taking advantage of the situation, smirking. His eyes are hard, angry, but soften as they lock on hers. She assumes it is because he realizes she's a woman but there's a spark that passes between them- she's hoping he realizes that too. She waits a few seconds, then stands up. If he wanted to punish her for insubordination or distracting or whatever ridiculous reasons he supposedly comes up with, he'd shoot her there in front of everyone since he's apparently some monster who whips out a gun without a second thought.

* * *

"Come with us. Live a little. Or will your father be so mad that you're drinking with the Militia?"

Nora smirks at Evie's teasing. She's known the woman since college when they were in the same sorority. She's heard about Monroe's parties, never has gone to one before. Her father would die.

"Maybe we'll even find you a nice soldier to settle down with. I promise they're not all terrible."

Hopefully. As much as she loves her father, she's twenty eight, and she's come to a point in her life when she needs to worry about herself and what she wants and needs.

She makes sure she looks good, knowing General Matheson will be there. She's pleased to see that his eyes lock on her as soon as she enters the tent. She plays dumb with Evie, leaning close to her,

"Who is that?"

Evie follows her gaze and laughs. "God Nora, you always had high expectations. Luckily for you, I know him. Let's go, I'll introduce you. Can you believe her Livvy?"

Their other friend merely nods, eyes glued to President Monroe. Nora could care less about him. Her attention is on his friend only, who hasn't looked away once. The heat of his gaze nearly leaves her breathless but she mentally warns herself to play it cool. _Don't come off stupid or ridiculous. Just be... normal. _Normal. Whatever normal was.

* * *

He walks her home that night, after kissing her on the hilltop, and keeps at least a foot of space between them. She can sense the anxiety coming off him in waves. It makes her laugh. He wants to know what's funny.

"You," she tells him, taking his hand in hers. He tenses for a moment, then relaxes, squeezing her fingers gently. "This is it."

She stops at the entrance to the apartment building and they turn to face each other.

"Thank you for walking me home."

"It was a pleasure." they slowly lean towards each other and before their mouths meet, he mutters, "When can I see you again?"

She thinks for a moment, then mumbles, "Tomorrow."

"Okay." they exchange another kiss and finally step away from each other. "Have a good night."

"You too. I... had a nice time."

He nods silently and she smiles, knowing that is about all that she'll get from him. She wiggles her finger in a wave as she enters the building and spies him from each window as she climbs the stairs to the loft. He's still standing there when she peers out from behind the curtains of the loft, which makes her smile. He only turns to leave when he sees her blow out the candle that had been glowing in the window.

* * *

She knows that she's in too deep. It's only been four weeks and they spend every chance they get together. He's busy, obviously, but he makes sure that there is at least five minutes to see her. When they're not together, he's ingrained in her mind, a constant thought at the forefront of her brain.

She's getting ready to meet him for lunch one afternoon when she sees her father through the mirror, leaning in the doorway of her bedroom, a scowl on his face.

"You're going out again." he states flatly. She runs her brush through her hair, then pulls it into a high ponytail.

"Yes, I am."

"You're going out with him?"

"Yes, Dad, I am." she tries to hold back her exasperation.

"You kids are going to put me in my grave." Samuel shakes his head. Derek had been shipped out to Militia boot camp two weeks earlier. "Nora, he's dangerous. He's bad news and he's going to hurt you."

"He's not like that."

"Spare me. I can imagine the number of lies he's told you just so he can get you into bed."

"Okay, not that it's any of your business but Miles and I have not slept together."

"Oh it's Miles now is it?"

"Do you expect me to call him General on our dates?"

"I would think he demands it."

"You don't know him."

"Neither do you."

"You're not ruining this for me."

"Oh trust me honey, that will happen all on it's own. He can't even come up and introduce himself?"

"What does it matter? You wouldn't let him step foot in this house." she brushes past her father into the hallway and grabs her jacket from the closet. "Dad, I'm more than old enough to make my own decisions. I respect your opinions but... everything's not always so black and white."

She leaves the building and heads towards the center of the city. She's surprised to find Miles near the bakery at the end of the street.

"I thought I was getting you," he says, greeting her with a kiss. The protective tone in his voice makes her smile as she burrows into his side, seeking his body heat as the cool breeze blew through.

She understands where her father is coming from. She knows the stories of General Matheson, the body count that's been left in his wake, how people cower in fear when his name is whispered. But she also knows Miles, knows his true personality. She's spent four weeks chipping away at the General to find him. How dare her father insist she didn't know him. And she's right. Everything is not black and white. She knows from their conversations that this was not Miles's original intention. He wanted to help, to protect, bring back some order. She sees the rough exterior disappear, sees him smile more often, open up to her more. He's human just like the rest of them.

"I'm leaving tomorrow." he tells her as they walk back from the park. "I have to go check on some things in Indianapolis."

"How long are you going to be gone?"

"I don't know. It depends. Hopefully not too long."

"Okay." she nods, lips pressed together tightly. Indianapolis is halfway across the Republic. With no phones or computers, communication was difficult. "You'll be careful, right?"

"Always," he smirks and presses a kiss against her mouth. She responds, wrapping her arms tightly around his shoulders. "I'm just checking on some of the troops. It'll be fine."

"Okay." she smiles this time, forcing herself to be positive. This is ridiculous. They've only known each other a month. It's not like they have some established relationship. She will not allow herself to get worked up about this. Except, in one month she feels like she knows him better than anyone else and he's the closest person to her now, besides her family. Over Miles's shoulder, she sees her father standing near the entrance to the apartment building, watching them with narrowed eyes. "Oh,"

"What?" he glances over, following her line of sight, then looks back. "Your dad?"

"Mmm," she nods shortly, stepping away from him. His eyes are hidden behind sunglasses but she sees how his mouth tightens in anxiety and she almost laughs. He's the general of the entire Militia and he's scared of her father. "Come on,"

She knows her father is going to be rude or walk away but she at least has to give it a try. There is nothing fearsome about Miles at the moment. He's dressed in ripped jeans, a blue Henley, sunglasses and a baseball cap turned backwards on his head. He looks like any other person. He _is _any other person.

"Dad, I want you to meet Miles." she gestures between them, eyes glaring at him. _Please be nice to him. _"Miles, my father Samuel."

"Hi. Nice to meet you." Miles pulls his glasses off with one hand and extends the other to Samuel, who stares at it. He finally accepts it, gives it a short shake, and drops it.

"Sure." he glances between the couple, sighing softly. "Well, guess I'll leave you alone."

He retreats into the building without another word and Nora sighs, somewhat relieved. It could have been better but it also could have been so much worse. Miles turns his attention back to her.

"Was that good or bad?"

"It was neither. He's not too thrilled about me seeing you."

"Not good enough for you?" he jokes dryly but there's a flash of something in his eyes. _I wouldn't want my daughter dating someone like me either._

"Frankly, I don't care what he thinks." she leans up and kisses him again, hands at his waist. "Be safe."

"Will do. I expect the same from you."

She wants to say that she'll wait for him, that she'll be thinking of him, but wonders if that'll freak him out. Instead she just kisses him again, says goodbye, and goes inside. She watches him from the window as he disappears down the street and tries to ignore the ache that has suddenly settled in her chest.

* * *

She tries to keep herself busy and keep her mind off him but that's hard to do. Anytime she hears a battalion returning, she gets herself worked up, thinking he's home but it never is. She thinks of writing him a letter but figures by the time the messenger finds him, he'll probably be on his way back.

Derek comes home for Thanksgiving and those few days are tense for all of them. A group of her father's friends, along with some of their children, who she was friendly with, have been arrested. Samuel goes into a rage, yelling at his children, asking if this is what they want to be allied with. Derek argues back but Nora stays quiet, receiving the verbal lashing for being 'another one of Matheson's whores'- her father's words, not hers.

She would rather not get involved with politics on either side. She knows many people were angry with President Monroe but also knows many who would willingly die for the man. She doesn't like either extreme. She believes there is some middle ground that they can find. She can't believe how quickly society has crumbled. Does no one remember what life used to be like or do they just not care? She refuses to accept that they can't rebuild to the way it was before.

* * *

Her father's words sting and stay with her into the following week when she goes to do her Christmas shopping. What was Miles doing right now? Logically she knows he's supervising his troops, too busy fighting battles to stroll into the nearest town for a beer and a girl. Still, she thinks of him, traveling along the eastern seaboard and out west. He's gone through many towns. He's young, good looking, and powerful. He probably has a girl in every town.

Feeling depressed, she enters the bookstore, the bell tinkling over head. The owner waves from the desk and she moves through the unorganized stacks, glimpsing various titles. She reaches for a worn copy of _A Tale of Two Cities _and when she pulls it out, a smaller book falls to the ground. Bending down, she grabs it from the floor and flips through it quickly. It's a book of various quotes for various topics. She stops on one page in the love section and reads the paragraph.

She reads it three times, feeling the lump in her throat growing each time. She's read her fair share of romance books, those really cheesy ones where the people fall in love in two days and are married the next week. As much of a hopeless romantic as she is, she doesn't expect that it'll ever happen to her. Yet here she is, standing in the middle of a store, reading this ridiculously sappy quote and an image of Miles pops into her mind. Somehow, in a month, lust had turned to love. She reads the quote a fourth time and exhales a low sigh. This is it. This is true, at least according to this.

She knows what he's done, even though he thinks she doesn't, and still accepts it because she sees what his goal is. She has seen every facet of his personality, seen the struggles he faces with the Militia and comforts him, stands beside him, letting him vent. God knows he's been on her mind every day since the first day in the park. And she sure as hell isn't going to let some tramp in some backwoods town come between them-though she truly doubts she exists.

* * *

She drops everything the evening he returns. She had been in the market, purchasing some food for the week, when she hears the whispers.

"Matheson's back."

"Did you hear about the Plains troop? Completely slaughtered."

"Didn't get a get scratch on him."

"What a monster."

Nora ignores the comments and winds her way through the city, to the outskirts where the house is situated. She is stopped instantly at the gate, as she suspected.

"Private property, miss. Unless you have business with President Monroe, I'm going to have to ask you to turn back."

"Not the President. I'm looking for General Matheson."

The guards exchange a look and the one to her left jerks his head at the house, sending the one on the right off. He's back within ten minutes and holds the gate open for her to step inside.

"I'll take you upstairs miss. The General will be in the third room on the left."

"Thank you very much." she waits at the top of the steps until he turns away, and then she walks quickly, almost running, to the door she was directed to. Her heart is racing as she waits for Miles to answer, which is only a few seconds. He's in one piece, thank God, and as one of the whispers said, not a scratch on him. She doesn't wait for him to greet her, just throws her arms around him. He immediately reciprocates and she thinks, _There's no one else. He wouldn't be like this if he had someone else. _

When he locks the door later, then faces her again, his expression has changed- a mixture of nervousness, desire, and love. She's positive on the last one. Miles may not be as vocal as she is but his expressions always betray him, at least when it comes to her.

"This is okay?" he drops to his knees in front of her, sounding hesitant.

"It's more than okay." she smiles softly at him. She knows what his problem is. He's trying to be honorable, not take advantage of her. She's known that since they began seeing each other. They could have been sleeping together the night of the party but he didn't want to push her.

He's everything she's expected and she's sure if anyone else, for whatever reason, has ever tried to picture Miles in bed, they would envision him as some brutish caveman. He's the complete opposite. In fact, she's never seen him more gentle or caring. He's attentive, focusing solely on her, and shies away each time she tries to touch him. _Next time. This is about you. _

She watches him later, once they've actually moved into his bed and he falls asleep. He's turned on to his side next to her, mouth open slightly, and there's one thick lock of hair that keeps falling across his forehead no matter how many times she pushes it back. The lump she felt in her throat at the bookstore, reading that dumb quote, is back. It makes no sense to her how things have turned out but she wouldn't have it any other way. She scoots closer to him, tucking her head under his jaw, and feels his hand rub her hip gently under the blanket. She's grateful he's back, grateful he still wants her. In the back of her mind, there's the thought that he's going to have to leave again and her frown deepens. She doesn't want to let go of him, never mind letting him out of her sight. _You have it bad Nora, so so bad._

* * *

She ignores the fiery gaze in her father's eyes when she returns home later the next morning. She shouldn't even be living here anymore. She should have had her own place, should have been married, had kids. Kids. For the first time she thinks about kids. Pictures Miles wrestling and playing ball with a little boy in a large yard, cuddling a little girl to his chest protectively.

She knows her father isn't mad at what she's done, could even care less about that, it is just who she's done it with.

* * *

Miles arrives the next night to take her to dinner, then brings her back to his house. He tells her he's leaving again. If she thought the news of his departure in September was rough, she was wrong. She feels like her heart is being ripped in two. _No_, she tells herself, _you're going to be strong and deal with it. This is Miles. He's practically invincible. He'll be back before you know it._

She tries being sassy to alleviate the sadness in the room and that perks him up immediately. She memorizes every inch of him, not that she hadn't already last night, and tells herself this will not be the last time she sees him. She tries to imagine if they had been together when he was a marine but can't. Cannot envision the years of separation, the fear that he may get hurt at any time.

She hears him when he tells her he loves her, even though he thinks she's asleep, and feels her heart soar. It's all she wants to hear. She knows she won't be able to sleep much, knowing the horrors of the road will only give her nightmares. After an hour or so, she glances up at him, finds him passed out, and quietly climbs out of bed, pulling his shirt on over her shoulders. She fastens two buttons as she moves to the desk and lights a candle. He has loose papers all over the top of the desk and she finds a blank sheet, then grabs a pencil. She thinks for a moment, then slowly begins to write. Her eyes flicker to his sleeping form every so often. She writes the quote from memory- she has read it so many times that it flows without a hitch. Folds up the letter and moves to where his bag is sitting on the armchair. She picks a pocket at random, knowing, _hoping _he'll find it when he stops later the following evening. Then she blows the candle out and climbs back into bed, holding him tightly. _Just please come back to me._

* * *

She wants to say the words to him but they catch in her throat. He looks like he has something to say but holds back. They exchange slow kisses, hands tightening around each other. He finally pulls away, just enough to lean his forehead on hers and mutters, "It's not as far as Indianapolis. I'll be back sooner."

"I just want you to be careful."

"Always." he kisses her one more time, then grabs his bag and sets out.

* * *

She's in a funk. There is no denying it. Evie gets sick of her mood four days later and takes her shopping. Shopping post-blackout is hardly exciting but at least it's something to take her mind off Miles. They stop near the park, watching children frolic in the snow, and chat about their lives.

"Evie!" a male voice calls out, catching their attention. Ricky is approaching them and not far behind is Monroe. Nora's heart sinks at the grim expression on both faces. Something happened to Miles. She just knows it. Ricky speaks quietly to his wife, leading her away. Monroe stands before Nora, hands folded solemnly.

"Is something wrong President Monroe?"

Her heart is pounding, waiting to hear the words _Miles is dead. Miles is injured. Miles is being held hostage. _So she's caught off guard when she hears him say, "Your father and brother have been killed."

"W-What?" she blinks at him in surprise, not sure she's heard properly. He begins to tell her how her neighbor had run out into the street, yelling for help. A man had been seen leaving the loft. The neighbor had found their bodies. He apologizes and assures her that he's having everything taken care of.

"I promise you Nora, I am going to find this monster."

She's too shocked to say anything or even react when he smiles sympathetically and pulls her into a warm hug.

"Anything you need, you let me know."

"Thank you President Monroe."

"Please. It's Bass. My friends call me Bass. You're a friend. In fact, I would love it if you came back with me to the house. Miles would have my head if I didn't look out for you. You'll have full access to all amenities. You can stay in his room if you'd like."

She doesn't say a word, just follows him blindly to the wagon waiting for him. She breaks down after he leaves her alone in Miles's room and collapses onto the bed. She presses her face into his pillow, curling around it, and cries. She wants him. She wonders if Bass will alert him. She scolds herself, her thoughts going back to her father and brother. She feels guilty. Guilty that her concerns are for Miles rather than Derek and Samuel. That she thought of him first before them.

* * *

Bass does take care of everything, arranging for a burial for both of them. He stays by her side through the funeral, ignoring the dirty looks he receives. Samuel's friends do not appreciate his presence. Nora is sure her father would rant and rave, probably die again if he knew Sebastian Monroe was standing at his graveside mourning him.

"Do you know where Miles is?" she asks, her voice hoarse from crying.

"No. The snow is keeping our messengers from getting through. As soon as I can reach him, I'll have him turn around."

* * *

It's two weeks after the funeral that Bass approaches her at breakfast.

"I hope you're doing better," he says quietly, "I know it's difficult."

"Thank you. For everything, Bass. You've been more than gracious."

"Like I said, you're a friend. You're Miles's girl. I'll always look out for you." he leans an elbow on the table, smiling gently. "It must be frustrating, knowing what's happened."

"I just don't understand. It doesn't make any sense."

"Some people can be animals. The things I saw in the years before the Republic was formed," he trails off, shaking his head. "You can't look at these things objectively. It's like the laws of the world don't matter anymore. People like that, they can't even be considered people. They need to be put down."

Nora pushes the food on her plate, not looking at him. He leans a little closer to her and begins to speak again.

"That's why we do this, why we stepped up to the plate. Nora, you could help. You could be a key in making sure these things don't happen again, so that people don't have to suffer like your brother and father did."

"How's that?"

"There are groups along our borders that are trying to hinder our expansion. These other republics are floundering because they can't control what's happening. Past our borders, the world is chaos. Unfortunately a civil war is going to break out. I need weapons in order to protect us."

"No," she shakes her head. "I don't want any part of that."

"I'll let you think it over. I know you're a talented chemist Nora. Top of your class at Temple. I know you can make me what I need."

"I didn't even graduate."

"That doesn't matter. If I get you supplies, you'll be able to make me a bomb won't you?"

"Like I said, I don't want any part of that."

"Like I said, I'll let you think it over."

* * *

She finally agrees because when she thinks of her father and Derek, now all she can think of are their coffins lowering into the ground. Their deaths were meaningless and avoidable all because of some son of a bitch. Bass is right. _Don't you want to avenge them? I'm trying everything I can to get that bastard back here and punish him properly but there are so many more like him. _His words echo in her head and she can't fight it anymore. Vengeance isn't really her type of thing but if she can have a hand in stopping the suffering of others, she'll do whatever it takes. She tells herself she'll do it once but no more. But Bass continues to come back, continues to entice the hatred out of her. _Think of your father. What would he say? He would be proud of you Nora, getting rid of these monsters. _She doesn't even realize how twisted her thoughts have become because months ago she would have said, "Bass, he thinks _you're _the monster." She only agrees.

* * *

She's never been so relieved to see Miles. She finally allows the pain that's been building for two months to break free, knowing she can lean on him for help. He stays up two nights in a row with her as she cries and fights through nightmares. There's something off about him though. For some reason, she doesn't think he's all too happy that she's become a bomb maker. Her suspicions are confirmed when he tells her enough is enough. But it's not enough. Outside of the Republic, the world is in chaos. She's read reports that make her sick-the mistreatment of children, the ransacking of towns, families torn apart. She realizes that she's creating things that are killing people. There are countless lives on her hands but don't they deserve it? If it helps Bass and Miles expand the Republic, to help people who truly need it, isn't it okay?

"The reason I fell in love with you was because you're not like everyone else. I was going in a direction that I realized I hated and you brought me back from that, gave me some real faith and hope. Where's _that _Nora?" Miles looks so distraught as he says this that it nearly floors her. She doesn't have an answer for him. She wishes he wasn't so angry with her. She's only trying to help.

* * *

Bass has her begin working with his weapons specialist and she quickly picks up on assembling and disassembling guns, creating close range weapons, and so on. He always looks pleased with her, appreciates her efforts, getting her to advance her knowledge.

Miles is smothering to a point, then takes off. Nora knows their tension is because of her involvement in the Militia. He hates who she's become. She wants to yell and scream at him, tell him that she has to do this, has to be this way, just like he has. It's not really _her, _just like the bloodthirsty general is not really _him_. It's just a job.

* * *

As the months pass on and he doesn't come home, fear begins to grip at her insides. What if he didn't come back? What if he got so fed up with her that he just disappeared? No, he wouldn't do that. When he comes back, she's going to try harder to be her old self. She's not going to lose him on top of losing them. She couldn't handle losing him.

She's worried when he arrives, trying not to squirm under his intense stare. She sighs in relief when he kisses her and clings to him. He still wants her, still loves her. She'll give up everything as long as he stays with her.

That is until the next morning when Bass has a request. When he sees her start to protest, he silently slides the newspaper across the table to her. The article, focusing on the complete burning of a town across the river, tugs at her heart.

"Can you imagine the horror those people must have felt? Those poor children."

"What do you need?"

"We have a lookout on one of their camps. Just something small, enough to take them out, maybe even send a message to their friends. We are a force to be reckoned with."

Miles violently slams the chair back from the table and storms from the room without a word. Nora looks for him and finally sees him from the window, his horse galloping away from the stables. She leans against the window, blinking away tears. She doesn't know how to get through to him. His words replay themselves in her head and she knows he doesn't feel strongly about his cause anymore. She doesn't know what will make her stop because each time she tries, something else pulls her back in. Now that she's been personally exposed to these horrors, she needs to try and fix it somehow.

* * *

She gets her answer at the end of October when she can't stand how sick she's been and tired and finally gives in to see the local doctor. The last thing she is expecting is to hear that she's pregnant. All the signs point to it and the more she thinks about it, the more sense it makes.

She can't work for Bass anymore. She wants to get away from it all, create a calm, simple life. She leaves the house and moves back to the loft. Nothing is going to jeopardize this. This is a second chance. As more weeks go by, she begins to regret what she's done. She let herself be consumed by her grief and hatred and used it in the most unproductive way. She refuses to bring a child into that sort of world.

She's not expecting Miles back anytime soon and is shocked when she finds him banging on her door. He looks like he's been through hell and she quickly learns it is because he couldn't find her. Hope surges up within her. No matter what seems to happen, he can't let go of her. Now that she's stopped, things can go back to normal. She's not expecting him to react so negatively when she tells him about the baby. The white picket fence image, with 2.5 kids is shattered. She always was too damn optimistic for her own good.

His words sting-he doesn't want a baby, she's trying to trap him, they'd be terrible parents. Suddenly she is seeing a side of him she never thought existed. She wants to laugh at the irony of the situation. She figures it will be her weapon addiction that drives him away, not their child. She's so worried that he's going to desert her and here he is, willing to come back, but not willing to make this little family with her.

She lets him go, taunts him even, because she thinks he really won't do it. It's not like him. Sure, they get on each others' nerves but there's been far worse between them. He'll climb back up the stairs and apologize and promise everything was going to work out. They could get away from the Militia and start over.

She doesn't think that he'll listen when she tells him that she won't take him back. Maybe she came off harsher than she expected. Or maybe her father was right and she really didn't know Miles at all.

* * *

"Nora?"

The inquisitive voice makes her look up from the book she's reading at the cafe. For a moment, she thinks Miles is standing in front of her but she silently reminds herself that he left her. In two weeks, he hasn't tried to contact her once. She does recognize the man though and smiles.

"Frank, how are you?" she had become close friends with Frank Hamilton in college. He had been a political science major who lived across the hall from her. As an officer in the Militia, he was stationed in Philadelphia so they saw each other frequently if he wasn't out on a mission.

"Fine, just fine. It's been a while since I've seen you. What's been going on?"

"Nothing. Just getting by." she smiles again.

"I heard about your dad and Derek. I'm so sorry."

"Thank you." she glances over his Militia uniform and smiles. "Did you just get back?"

"Yeah, I was with Captain Baker in Ohio. Hey, I would love to get together for dinner, catch up, and all that."

"Sure. Let me know when."

"How's Saturday?"

"That'll work." she tells herself it's just friends getting together but she can't shake the feeling that she's betraying Miles. _He deserted you. Who cares how he feels. _

* * *

Dinner was simply just friends getting together, just like old times. Frank has always been comic relief for her and she feels a weight lifted off her shoulders as they walk past the battered store fronts. He walks her back to the loft and kisses her cheek gently.

"How about we do this again Monday? I'm leaving for Virginia the day after Christmas but I'll be busy with my family before then."

"That sounds like a good idea."

"I'm here if you need anything."

"I appreciate that."

She feels her heart sink as the group of Militia officers come out of the alley by her apartment building, ragging on Frank. Everything happens in a blur. She tries to step in, not even thinking, and receives a hard blow to her jaw. She staggers back but swings at her attacker, which only agitates him more. Then she's on the ground, intense pain radiating throughout her body. Her last thought before she loses consciousness is the baby and she's sure she whimpers out _Miles _and then nothing.

* * *

When she comes to, she is in Evie's apartment with the blonde standing over her, worried. She can hardly focus her eyes but she hears a male voice she doesn't recognize.

"Nora? Nora, I'm George Cassidy. I'm an old colleague of Troy. Unfortunately, he's in Trenton at the moment but your friend here called me when her husband found you."

"Nora, please say something." Evie sounds close to tears and her hand suddenly grips her tightly. "I was so worried."

"Mrs. White, please calm down. She's been through quite an ordeal."

Nora closes her eyes again, trying hard not to cry out from the pain she's feeling. Their voices fade in and out but she gets the gist. Monroe's boys took turns beating her and Frank up, left her for dead, and she lost the baby. The door closes quietly but Evie's sniffles let her know she's not alone.

"I can't believe what happened." she says. "Ricky says they'll be dealt with, that Miles won't let them get away with it."

At the sound of his name, Nora whimpers softly. She wants him here, not Evie, comforting her.

"It'll be okay Nora. I promise, it'll be okay."

It will not be okay. The past few months have proven that life just kept going down hill. She lost her family, she lost Miles, and now she lost their baby. Quite the track record.

* * *

She feels like a hostage in Evie's apartment. The other woman refuses to let her leave until the doctor returns and gives her a clean bill of health. As soon as that day comes, Nora leaves immediately after. She leaves a note, thanking her friend for everything, but please don't try to follow her. She has family out west and she'll be staying with them. The last part is a lie. There's nothing left in Philadelphia but bad memories. Staying here would just drive her insane.

* * *

It's just after Valentine's Day when she realizes Miles is following her. She catches a glimpse of him in the other room of the tavern she's sitting in and feels her heart stop. She shakes her head, trying to clear her thoughts. It's not him. There's no way it's him. But when she looks again, she knows it is him. The next town she stops in, she sees him walk by the hotel. She wonders what he wants. Part of her hopes he's coming for her, to be with her. The other part thinks that's just too impossible to be true. She can't figure it out. He has no reason to arrest her, though the more she begins to understand the twisted mind of Bass Monroe and how he manipulated her, she's sure some terrible story has been spun about her. Also, he's by himself. Would he bring a troop to capture her?

He never tries to contact her, always stays two steps behind her. It's ridiculous but she feels safer knowing he's there.

* * *

She hears whispers of a resistance, similar to the one her father had been a part of. The idea entices her. It's crazy. She had begun with having no allegiance, then tried sided with the Militia, and now here she was trying to join the resistance. Her father said her brother had been immature and naïve. That seems to characterize her as well. She realized too late what the Republic was about. Now there were so many things she wishes she could change.

She feels violated, taken advantage of, stupid. Her father had been right all along. Monroe is a monster. Monroe has had a hand in everything. She doesn't have the proof yet but she just feels it, now that she isn't blinded by his smooth words and promises.

She still can't bring herself to believe that of Miles. He was here, following her, wasn't he? They were both just too stubborn to apologize. Maybe one day that would change.

* * *

Ultimately, she's sent to Pontiac, where one of the head leaders of the resistance is located. He's nearly her father's age and he smirks at her, making her feel about two feet tall.

"Why should I agree to this? What do you have to offer? Sorry Miss Clayton but I'm not in the position to be rescuing damsels when they get in over their heads."

"Because I can supply you with weapons and... and I have a vendetta against Monroe. I'll stay dedicated. Believe me, he's... I've lost everything. This is all I have left. I won't stop until the same has happened to him. I walked here by myself from Philadelphia. I can protect myself."

"What kind of weapons?" he asks after a pause. She smiles widely and he sticks his hand out to her.

"Welcome to the side of the rebels kid."


	3. Chicago 2024

The snow is past Nora's ankles as she trudges through the streets of Chicago. She can't help but glower at the white stuff. No matter how many Nor'easters she's dealt with growing up in Pennsylvania and all the storms she's seen living in the mid-west, she still hates it.

The cold weather has caused many of the inhabitants to take to the buildings so the streets are mostly empty. The random stragglers who remain lurk in the shadows. She's not too concerned about them, except perhaps for their well-being if they decide to get in her way. She's so pissed off right now that she could probably take on a whole troop of Militia and win. She had made the trek from Pontiac to Chicago in order to secure weapon parts and some ammo. Her supposed ally had upped and left, clearing out his supply as well. Now, she is stuck in the cold and hasn't achieved her goal. She refuses to go back to Pontiac empty handed. For now, though, she needs to find a place to stay for the night, and in the morning she was going after Potter.

She can see a group of people clustered on the steps of what looks like an old hotel. As she gets closer, she sees the faded sign that reads _The Grand_. Sounds perfect. She silences the whistles of the men with a cold glare and storms past them into the building. It's slightly warmer inside due to the candles lit all over the place. The check in desk seems to have been turned into a bar. Even more perfect. She glances over the group assembled at the counter and the surrounding tables, then steps up to the bar and collapses onto a stool with a soft sigh. The bartender eyes her appreciatively but she lets it slide. He seems harmless enough.

"Need something doll?"

"Whatever's warm."

"Lucky for you, that's all we have sweetheart." he reaches for a glass, pours some whiskey and slides it towards her. She refrains from making a face-it's not her type of drink at all-but at least it will warm her up. She downs the glass, holding back a cough, and pushes it back to him. He refills it and this time she sips it slowly. He leans his elbows on the bar, grinning widely-and showing off the remaining teeth he has. "What's a pretty thing like you doin' out here all alone? No worries, their loss might be my gain."

She lifts her eyebrows in a, 'yeah sure try your best' gesture and brings the glass to her mouth once more.

"Roscoe, I said to watch the bar, not make weak attempts at hitting on my customers."

The new voice-the _familiar _voice has Nora choking on her drink, dribbling whiskey down her lower lip. She quickly wipes her mouth and tries hard not to look up as Miles slides behind the bar and takes a long sip out of a glass near the non-functioning sink. Oh God, what is he doing here?

"No reason I can't do both." the man, Roscoe, chuckles. He winks at Nora, who smiles weakly.

"For your troubles." Miles holds out a bottle of tequila, making Roscoe whoop happily.

"Jesse, you might just be my best friend." He moves from behind the bar and situates himself on a stool, slumping over the counter with a sigh, hugging the bottle as it if was his first born.

"Sorry 'bout that. Hard to find good help these days." Nora realizes Miles is speaking to her and nods silently, hoping he'll just go away. When the hell did he settle in Chicago? When the hell did he become a bartender? She had heard rumors that General Matheson had disappeared from the Militia. She wonders about that. "Need anything else?"

She shakes her head quickly, keeping her eyes on the glass.

"Hey," he leans down slightly, trying to catch her eye. "You okay? If he got you upset, I'll be more than happy to punch him for you. I've needed a good reason for a while now."

She finally lifts her head and his smirk dissolves into a surprised expression. He quickly recovers, a composed look forming on his face. Her heart is pounding as their eyes meet. She's missed him.

* * *

The last thing Miles expects is for Nora to walk in. He didn't even know she was in Chicago. He wracks his brain, trying to remember the last update he got from Billy. Now that he thinks about it, it has been a while. She could have been right under his nose for months. He gazes at her for a long moment, chest aching. It's been four years since he last saw her. He's heard rumors that she's helping the resistance but he's not sure he believes that. She looks different-a little thinner, her hair pulled away from her face in a tight ponytail. But it's still Nora. As he stares at her, he can't help but think, _"Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine." _-he always was a closet classic movie fan.

"Uh... hi," he mutters lamely.

"Hi," her voice is just as soft. Then she squares her shoulders, regaining a neutral attitude. Clearly no one knows who he really is so she's not going to wreck that for him. "I'm fine, thank you. You don't need to punch anyone. This is a hotel?"

"Somewhat."

"Do you have any rooms?"

"Yeah."

"Good." she drains the rest of the glass and stands from the stool.

"Roscoe," Miles lets out a whistle and the drunkard lifts his head with a mumble. "Watch the counter. I'll throw in a bottle of Jack."

"Whatever you say Jesse." they switch places and Miles leads Nora down a hallway and up a set of stairs. She glances around- there is no one. They are far from the bar now that no one would hear them.

"Jesse?" she questions, an eyebrow quirked.

"Trying to keep a low profile." he pulls a key out of his pocket and stops at a set of double doors, unlocking them. "Here,"

They step inside and she makes a quick analysis. The bed is unmade, clothes strewn over the arm chair and sofa. She turns slowly to face him.

"Someone is staying in here."

"Only when he's not tending bar."

"This is your room?"

"Yeah."

"I'm not-"

"Nora, trust me." he cuts her off quickly with a wave of his hand. Honestly, he's not quite sure why he brought her in here but there was no going back now. "You don't want to be in one of the old rooms. You'll be much more comfortable in here."

"Haven't kept up on the place?"

"Housekeeping is hard to come by." he rakes a hand through his hair and eyes her once more as she slips her jacket off. He swallows, silently telling himself to remain calm, and tells her, "Bar's only open another hour. Once they're gone I lock up. I'll be back. Make yourself at home."

* * *

Nora sinks down onto the edge of the bed and heaves a great sigh. Just what she needs. She spent four years trying to get Miles out of her system and she unknowingly walks right back to him. He looks good, she thinks. Even though he looked amazing in uniform, he always seemed too stiff and uncomfortable, hair slicked back. He looks at ease here, in his worn jeans and long sleeved shirts, hair messy like he's been running his hands through it constantly. _Or someone does it for him. _She feels a flair of jealousy as she thinks of another woman touching him. _Don't be ridiculous. He doesn't mean anything anymore. Right, that's why you almost became a puddle of goo as soon as you heard his voice. _She glances around the room and the flickering of the fireplace and a sudden thought hits her. _He brought you to his room. That must count for something._

She silently chastises herself. No, she was not going to get her hopes up. There is nothing between her and Miles anymore. Still, she can't help from snooping around to see what he's been up to the last four years, which after much searching, is surprisingly bland. She doesn't know what she was looking for- sonnets written to her, evidence of a woman, or whatever. It seems like he has nothing. She thinks of him for a moment-living alone in this dilapidated hotel, only the bar to keep him occupied. If she was him, she'd be miserable. She slumps onto the couch and turns her head slightly, eyeing the black Henley that smelled distinctly like Miles-remembering times she wore it or others just like it, the hem brushing her thighs, his hands sliding up underneath and... _no, no, no, not going there._

Oh, who the hell was she trying to kid? As hard as she may have tried, her feelings for Miles were not going anywhere. She could bury them as deep as she could, throwing herself into her work to keep from thinking about him. As soon as she sat down, nothing to keep her preoccupied, her thoughts turned to him. Where was he? What was he doing? Had he moved on? Then of course, there were the dreams- so vivid she swore she could hear and feel him, completely expecting to find him next to her when she woke up.

* * *

"You're going to wear a hole in the counter." Abigail, another regular patron of the bar, notes, catching Miles's attention. He glances down at the dirty rag in his hand, not even realizing he has been cleaning the same spot for the past few minutes. His mind has been on Nora since leaving his bedroom. "You look like you're in another world."

"Nah, just tired." he scoops up three glasses and drops them into the sink behind him. Why did he tell her to stay in his room? He's kicking himself at the moment because he knows he did it without thinking. Let his emotions take over. Why did she have to come here? There were plenty of places to stay in the city and she just had to choose this one.

"Doesn't have anything to do with that pretty lady you took upstairs does it?"

"Oh she was pretty." Roscoe chimes in. Miles glares at each of them in turn as he returns to wiping down the bar. Roscoe hoots gleefully, saying, "Maybe she'd like someone to keep her warm tonight. I'll volunteer."

"You're a real pig, you know that?" he grumbles, clenching the rag tightly. The thought of anyone speaking about her like that gets his blood boiling. Abigail notices this and taps Roscoe on the shoulder.

"Didn't you say you were going to see Clarissa?" she asks, "You might want to go now before the snow gets too bad."

He nods, gathering his bottles, salutes Miles, and stumbles out of the hotel and into the snowstorm. The door clangs loudly behind him and Miles shakes his head, relieved the other man is gone.

Abigail smiles as she leans on the counter. She's an older woman nearing her sixties and has emotional ties to The Grand. Miles usually enjoys her company. She reminds him of his mother. She's sweet, only has a couple glasses of wine, and merely enjoys being in a crowded room, observing the others. She has told him on more than one occasion that it gets too lonely in her condo. More often than not, he lets her stay in the only other truly habitable room, not wanting her to be trekking the streets of Chicago on her own.

"Is she a friend of yours?" she asks quietly. There's no one left in the bar and he's itching to put the lock down.

"No."

"I would've thought yes by the looks on both your faces."

"It was a long time ago."

"Didn't end on a good note?" she continues to press and he sighs, thinking back to the last day he spoke with Nora.

"No."

"Yet you're letting her stay here."

"I'm not heartless. It's going to get bad out there."

"So it has nothing to do with it being the first time I saw an actual spark in your eyes or the fact that you still care about her?"

"Abigail,"

"I get it." she holds up her hands, backing off the topic. "Jesse, some times you need to let your guard down and let others in. Second chances are possible and remember that God does work in mysterious ways. I don't think it's a coincidence she showed up here all on her own."

"I'm pretty sure she wants nothing to do with me." he mutters, wiping off a glass. "She's told me so."

"Maybe she told you so but that doesn't mean it's true. I can read people very well and I'm older and wiser than you so don't even think of rolling your eyes at me like some petulant teenager." she smiles slightly and he chuckles quietly. "I think I will head off to bed and let you finish up so you can get back to your friend. I'm sure you have a lot of catching up to do."

* * *

The paper had been sitting right on the edge of the desk. Nora sees it as soon as she sits down, eyes scanning the cluttered top. She feels like she's back in Philadelphia. Miles is as messy as ever. Controlled chaos, is what he told her once.

She picks it up and examines it. Her handwriting has faded over the years but is still legible. The sides are worn, even ripped in some areas, especially at the folds, as if he has opened and closed this a million times. _He's still kept it after all this time and in plain sight, like he's just read it. _The thought makes her happy and sad at the same time. Maybe they had been too quick to let go of each other, both too stubborn to say otherwise.

She hears the key in the lock and quickly jumps up, leaving the paper where it is, and walks towards the sofa. Miles enters, glances at her, and shuts the door quietly.

"Are you sure this okay?" she asks, wringing her hands behind her back. He stops near the back of the sofa, pondering the question, and then shrugs.

"Why not?"

"I should probably go."

"The snow's about up to your thighs now so I wouldn't recommend that." a slight exaggeration, but still. "Are you hungry?"

"No, no, thanks I'm fine."

"Thirsty?" he jerks a thumb at his personal collection of alcohol and she shrugs,

"Why the hell not?" at least it would probably calm her nerves a bit.

* * *

They kill off a bottle between themselves and talk about everything but them. The more they drink and talk, the closer they unconsciously move towards each other on the couch. Their knees are brushing and she turns to face him completely, pulling her legs underneath her. She has one arm stretched along the back of the couch, pressed against the warmth of his back. She needs to keep reminding herself that this is Chicago 2024, _not _Philadelphia 2020. It's hard to do that though because as she sits here, she sees the Miles that she knows and loves. _Except he wanted nothing to do with you or the baby and how did that all end up? Why put yourself through that again?_

The silent question makes her frown. He cocks his head questioningly, frowning as well. She had been mid-sentence, then suddenly stopped.

"What?"

She simply shakes her head. She knows they should talk about it. They need to talk about it. But then again, she'll be gone in the morning and they'll really never see each other again so does it even matter?

"Nothing, it's nothing." she finally says. In the years of their separation, she's pieced together their break-up or what she hopes and believes at least. She refuses to believe he's that heartless, that unloving. She doesn't think that it's simply a coincidence that he left Philly just a short time after she did. She's not sure what happened between him and Monroe or when he even made the decision to leave. Anything could have triggered his departure but she tells herself that it was for her. Some days, when she's feeling particularly angry with him, she tells herself to stop thinking with her heart and be realistic; to stop making him out to be some sort of hero. He's anything but.

Tonight is not one of those nights. Tonight, she's staring at him, longing for that short year they had together, and it hits her just exactly how lonely she's been. _You drank too much. _Yes, that had to be it.

Except, he's staring back at her, hints of the same feelings in his eyes. She thinks back to her note, sitting on the desk after all these years, and slowly leans in towards him. Her lips brush his and for a moment, he's unresponsive and she's suddenly fearful that she's made the wrong decision. Then his body shifts towards her and his hand is on the back of her head, stopping her from pulling away.

* * *

He knows this is a bad idea. It is a terrible idea. The only thing this is going to lead to is more pain for both of them. He doesn't expect her to stay and he thinks she doesn't expect to either. So what the hell were they doing?

"I'm sorry." she moves back first, averting his eyes. Her hand comes up to her mouth, touching her lips lightly. She catches him looking at her and smiles briefly. "Don't know what I was thinking."

"It's okay."

"I think I'm a little drunk."

"Yeah, same." he nods in agreement, exhaling a long breath. It's a complete lie. It takes more than half a bottle to get him even slightly buzzed.

He wishes he never met her, wishes she hadn't walked in tonight. She's slowly been killing him ever since that afternoon in the park when they first met. It's been painful, unbearable, completely shitty. But completely worth it as well as he thinks of how good it felt to see her smile, the excitement and desire of seeing her again after being on the road, of being... happy. There's a word that hadn't been in his vocabulary for quite some time. He struggles to remember the saying he heard once. What was it? It was better to have loved and lost than to have not loved at all?

He looks back at her, finds her gazing at him, and makes a rapid decision. It's his turn to go for her now but she's moving towards him too. They meet in a frenzied kiss, noses bumping and hands moving erratically.

"This... this isn't," she breaks off in a soft moan as he goes for a weak spot just under her chin that he's all too familiar with. "Oh, hell,"

Her fingers wind through his hair, holding him to her. Between them, his hand moves blindly, popping open the buttons on her flannel shirt.

Maybe one last night would finally give them closure. They could move on, accept that they were finished, sever ties completely, and all that. It wouldn't be an argument, a slamming door, nasty words. It would be a mutual goodbye. They'll never see each other again.

She agrees with him when he tells her so he stands, scoops her up- the couch is too small for them and nine out of ten chances, they would roll into the coffee table and kill themselves- and takes her over to his bed.

* * *

She sits on the edge of the bed later, just as the sun is beginning to rise, head in her hands. He's asleep behind her, completely unaware of the inner turmoil she was currently facing. She should have known better than to fall into bed with him. She should have turned and ran the second she had seen him walk behind that bar. Not because she doesn't regret it. She does regret it. Closure is the last thing on her mind. Right now, she's struggling to find the strength to head back on her mission and leave him behind.

Quietly, she stands up and slips back into her clothes, then walks to his desk. She finds a small piece of paper and a pencil and thinks for a moment. Finally she puts the point to the paper and scrawls a quick note. She puts it on the empty pillow, contemplates kissing him one last time, but then decides that would only make her stay. Instead, she grabs her bag, and leaves the room as quietly as possible. She's almost back down to the bar when she realizes she has no idea how to get out. She'll need him to let her out, lock the place back up again. It is nowhere near time to open the bar and she's sure he doesn't want random people wandering around while he's asleep. Except she doesn't want him to know she's leaving because a small part of her is hoping he'll make her stay.

She nearly stops short at the sight of the older woman sitting at the counter. Abigail smiles kindly and stands up.

"You're Jesse's friend. Leaving so soon?"

"Yes, I need to get back to my... family. I got caught in the snow last night. Hopefully, it's stopped by now. Ah," Nora is confused as to who the woman is, if she can trust her, "I don't mean to be rude but who..."

"I'm Abigail. Jesse is sweet enough to let me stay some nights. I used to work here with my husband, back before the Blackout. I suppose you can say I'm a regular customer of his. Is he awake?"

"No," she responds too quickly, then blushes. The other woman smiles knowingly but stays respectful. "You wouldn't be able to let me out by any chance, would you? Or lock up behind me?"

"I wouldn't mind at all. I would think that he'll be sad to see you go."

"He'll get over it." he has to. She has to. Enough was enough. She hears the lock click into place behind her as she steps out into the cold. There's some sense of finality to it all. She doesn't look back as she begins her hike out of the city.

* * *

Miles rolls over, hand connecting with the scrap of paper. The crinkling makes him open his eyes tiredly. The words are blurry for a moment as he tries to get his vision to adjust.

_I didn't want to leave like this but I think if I waited for you to wake up, then I would never have left. I'm sorry. Last night only reiterated how I feel but I can't stay. Not yet, anyway. There are things that I need to do. I want to believe that some day down the road, we'll find each other. Maybe it's just been the wrong places, wrong times. Love, N_

He reads it once more, then crumples it into a ball and flings it at the fireplace. Last night could have been more pain or closure and it turned out to be more pain. _You knew she wasn't going to stay so why are you getting all worked up about this? _


End file.
